What Becomes of The Brokenhearted
by jenajasper
Summary: Sometimes, the angels can't fix everything and life goes on anyway. (Swan Song and then some)
1. Chapter 1

What Becomes of The Brokenhearted

The two friends, all put back together, said their goodbyes as Dean prepared to start a new life. He tossed his bag in the back seat. He was still unable to look into the trunk without the memory of the jugs of poison that killed his brother.

It was only a short time ago that Dean drove into Stull Cemetery. Did Sam think that the last time they saw each other would be in that filthy Detroit hotel room, with that monster?

He had hoped to speak to his brother and tell him he was not alone. But he met Lucifer instead, and the conversation started badly.

It began with a toss onto the windshield. It ended with Sam dragging Adam to be swallowed up by the earth. Bloody, beaten and alone, Dean was witness to this.

He stared at the solid patch of ground and thought, it wasn't important, but he couldn't determine which pain was worse, inside or out.

Dean's thoughts returned to the present. He would have preferred that the car was facing out towards the road so he wouldn't have to take that last look at Bobby, the one that could convince him not to go. Stay and pretend nothing has changed. Sammy is just on the longest beer run...

As he slid into the seat of the Impala and gripped the steering wheel, it felt unfamiliar.

The Impala had been their home, a source of comfort and his savior. Now, it was just too big.

Once on the highway, he drove as fast as the car would let him. Whether he was running away or running to, he didn't know. It took only a quick glance at the passenger seat for the truth to hit him. He could hear his brother say, "You know I'm not coming back".

His entire life he had one job. Take care of your little brother. Well, your little brother is gone.

He drove for hours. No matter what was on the radio or what else he tried to think about, he couldn't clear his head.

"You got what you wanted."

By the time he got to Lisa's, he was spent. He barely had enough to knock on the door. And when she asked him if he was okay, the answer was a big no, but he kept that to himself.

That was his way and it was his brother. He wasn't ready to share that, not even with her. Lisa and Ben loved him, he knew that. And he loved them, as best he could. He needed them, wasn't that the same?

But he missed his brother and the guilt and responsibilty, he felt, for not being able to change what happened, consumed him. In public, he put on his brave face, the one that stopped at his eyes. But, when he was alone, he reached for his best friend. He didn't seek comfort in people; he found it in a bottle.

What was he supposed to do, now? Get a job? Become a productive member of society? First, he needed a drink. He told himself there wasn't enough whiskey to fill the emptiness, but, he would try. That was a joke to him and produced a half-hearted chuckle.

In between his bouts of drunkeness, Dean tried every book, spell, demon, witch, everything he ever heard of, but no supernatural or unnatural force could help him. Time was meaningless and immeasurable.

On the nights, Lisa found, that Dean was not in bed, she would come downstairs, carrying a blanket. She would always find him on the couch. If she tried to take the bottle from his hand, she would find his grip too strong and let it go. There was no harm in that; it was usually empty.

Those were the nights she would cover him, kiss his forehead, and go back to bed.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean lay on the sofa, his bottle within reach. She decided she would talk to him now.

"It's going to be all right, you know. You're going to be ok."

He moved, restlessly and whispered, "Lee?"

She answered him, "No, but, I'm here to help you. You will get better; I know you." Experience told her how to handle him and what to say. It was proving more difficult than she expected, but she was good at her job. And he was very important to her.

When she was done, she was able to give him his first good night's sleep, in a long time. What was the saying? 'Tomorrow is the first day….' We'll see, however, she was pretty confident that Dean was on his way back.

By the time he awoke, Lisa and Ben had both gone. There was a note on the table in front of him. He read something about 'breakfast in the kitchen'. As he stood, he kicked a bottle but it didn't spill; it was empty. Dean closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. How come he never got used to the hangovers? Maybe today he'll eat; he could always eat.

He shuffles to the kitchen and goes directly for coffee, black. He's thinking it might help the headache. He picks at some bacon and toast. When was the last time he ate? Not feeling better, he headed for the shower. When did he last do that?

The heat and steam helped clear his head and unknot his tension. He felt better, maybe today… After dressing, when did he last wear clean clothes? He went out to the garage. There she was, the Impala, she could lift his spirits.

It took hours. He polished; he cleaned; he stroked her. She was beautiful. Dean actually smiled. But, so much activity exhausted him. He decided he needed a nap.

She could make another visit now. He was sleeping, maybe even dreaming. That would be ideal. She spoke to him as she always did. After a few moments, she realized something was different. He was more alert. He was talking back!

"Who the hell are you?" She was dumbfounded.

"What are you doing in my head?" He wasn't awake but he knew she was there. That wasn't in the handbook. She couldn't imagine how he could sense her, then, she knew, damn that dream root! She answered, "I'm here to help you. You feel better, don't you, about your brother?"

"Sam, what about Sam. Have you hurt him?" His anger was frightening, even though he couldn't hurt her. She knew no other way out; she would have to tell him the truth.

"I can't hurt anyone. I'm here for you. Haven't you ever wondered how people move on after terrible things happen?"

He answered her. "Some people don't move on. How do I know you're really here to help?"

She tried to explain. " How do you think a woman gets over watching her husband's brains splattered all over her pretty pink suit and pill-box hat?" She gave him a minute to think, before continuing. "I once helped a four-year old boy take care of a baby after his mother died in a fire."

Dean's thoughts went back to his brother and he said, "That was you?" She answered that it was and she added, "I have been with you since the day you were born."

"How come I've never seen you before?" She told him that, after a visit, he has to forget. That way, they both stay safe.

Dean asked one last question. "This won't ever go away, will it?" She knew he would feel better, soon.

She answered, "You will forget me, but not what I've done."

And with that, she was gone.

When Ben came from school, he found the garage door opened. He cautiously approached, until he heard the music, Dean's music! Ben walked into the garage and Dean looked up and smiled, even with his eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean did forget, until she came back. But he was more comfortable on her next visit. So much so, that he wanted to talk. She tried to explain that no one speaks to her. She does her work and she leaves.

He was the first even to recognize she was there. She had to admit she did enjoy the company. It was nice to have a conversation, no matter how carefully she chose her words. And he was quite inquisitive.

"Well, what should I call you?" He asked.

"I've never had a name. I've never needed one."

Dean said he didn't understand. He had to call her something. He could make something up. He made a couple of suggestions, much to her displeasure.

She stopped him. "Don't, please." She thought for a moment before continuing. "Just call me Grace."

Dean realized, the more he asked, the less he knew. He decided to be blunt. "What's the big secret?"

She didn't know how he remembered, but she did know it only happened when she came to him. She felt no danger of exposure. She decided to trust him.

"I've told you that I've been with you since the day you were born, but you're not my only responsibility. You asked how long I've been around; it can't be measured in your time. I do my work in, what you call, the subconscious. My job is to restore. And, before you ask, not everyone has a restorer. The people I help have a destiny, if you will."

He interrupted her. "I don't believe in destiny."

She knew that. She continued. "Then, let me say, responsibilities to fulfill. And I have to make sure they're ready."

Dean was more confused. "But, if you're here to help, why would I have to forget?"

She explained that, exposure was risky. While she was in his mind, she was susceptible to manipulation. That's why she only came when he slept. "There are evil people who prey on others' thoughts."

Dean asked, "Like a Vulcan mind meld?"

She thought, 'He could be so exasperating.' But she said, "No, much more dangerous. Like Charles Manson or Jim Jones.

She saw the light come on. He said,"And I'll bet that's one reason why everybody hates Hitler." Dean was satisfied. He asked one last question. "But, wait. You said I had a destiny. What am I supposed to do? I'm not in that life, any more."

"I can't say. But, when you need me, I will be here."

He expected more, so he waited. She gave him what she could.

"We can't know the future, Dean."

"You don't mean 'we'; you mean me."

She mused, "This job was so much easier before you discovered dream root."

Dean was about to answer, but she was gone.

She visited him, one more time, before Sam came back just to be certain. She knew what was ahead for him. He did not. Even so, she didn't expect to see him again for a long time.


	4. Chapter 4

NOW

Today, Sam noticed it again at breakfast. Dean's appetite or lack of it and he looks terrible. He's not sleeping, not restfully, anyway. His temper was instantaneous and his attention span almost nonexistent. Sam was completely lost. They were back together; they were getting along and they were happy.

Sam looked over toward the passenger seat and saw that Dean was turned away and facing the window. Sam knew he wasn't asleep.

Dean's thoughts were scrambled; his nerves were like razors pinching through his skin. He hadn't slept in days. Every time he felt himself going under, the noise would start. He would hear that scratching and high pitched squealing. He might get ten or twenty minutes of peace and then it returned. Every night, all night.

Something was doing this to him. The last time he experienced anything close to this, was when he first heard Cas. But, he can listen to him now and Cas never disrupted his sleep like this. He couldn't eat, he couldn't work, he couldn't drive, he could barely think. Something must be trying to kill him.

Sam had called Bobby. There had to be something they could do. This wasn't normal; what was happening to Dean. Sam had been doing all the driving. The last time his brother was behind the wheel, he couldn't control the car or concentrate on the road. Sam knew he should stop and get himself some rest but, he wouldn't. He felt an urgency to help Dean. He should reach Bobby's by morning. He could rest then.

The last time Bobby spoke to the boys, they were just a few hours out. Sam sounded exhausted and refused to take Bobby's suggestion to stop and rest. He hadn't spoken to Dean for several days. He was agitated and inattentive. Bobby was worried. He couldn't figure what was wrong and what he heard from Sam didn't sound good at all. Something had a hold of Dean, he was sure of it. Something bad.

He checked the clock, again.

He looked out the window, again.

He walked to the front door, again.

As he turned to refill his glass, again, he heard the beautiful sound of that V8 engine, out of the corner of his ear. He saw the headlights as he opened the door. If they felt as bad as they looked, he might have to help them both in.

"You two look like rolled over crap." Bobby walked towards them and grabbed their bags after a quick hug. They looked even worse close up. The situation only deteriorated. Dean didn't answer or seem aware even as Bobby looked him in the eye and asked how he was doing. Sam tried to react normally.

Once inside, the brothers collapsed on the worn sofa across from Bobby's desk.

"Tell me what's going on, son." Bobby directed his words to the younger.

As tired as he was, Sam told Bobby the whole story.

"It started about ten days ago. At first, Dean would complain, in the morning, how he couldn't sleep. His usual sleep aid, alcohol, would make him pass out but, he still wasn't getting any rest. It got so bad, I had trouble sleeping. He would talk, sometimes, he was up and down; the tv was on and off. I started to worry that he might leave or do something stupid or dangerous. Bobby, I've never seen him this bad and I can't find anything wrong."

In addition to what Sam had investigated, they went through a litany of possibilities including hex bags, spells, markings, cuts, interactions and came up empty.

Bobby suggested they help Dean up to bed and both try to get some rest. Bobby said he had something to help Dean sleep. He knew even Dean couldn't fight this much longer and he was pulling Sam right behind him. Well, they would both sleep tonight; Bobby would see to that.


	5. Chapter 5

Rested, showered and hungry, Sam bounded down the stairs. He was drawn by the smell of breakfast. He had no fear of waking his brother; he couldn't remember the last time he had seen Dean so deep in sleep.

Bobby looked up as Sam entered the room. "Good morning, sunshine."

Sam smiled a big smile and walking into the kitchen; he asked Bobby how he did it. While Sam fixed a plate, Bobby explained.

Since he and Sam couldn't find anything on the outside, he figured whatever was attacking Dean, was coming from the inside. And he had heard of only one thing that could cause that kind of effect. But, he wouldn't know for sure until Dean woke up.

"But, how did you get him to sleep? He's knocked out."

Bobby explained that a dream root concoction with his own hair and a little hocus-pocus, should put Dean in his own head. If it was inside him and he was aware, Dean could find it. And if Dean could find it….Sam was impressed and anxious to see the results.

"Let's don't wake him. He'll get up when it's done."

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She didn't know yet what caused the change but, he was now aware and angry.

"What the hell are you doing to me? I thought you were supposed to help"

Grace apologized. She had never made an unscheduled visit to him before. She hadn't anticipated this reaction; she thought it would be different with him. And she needed his help.

Dean was so grateful for the good night's sleep, he listened without further argument. As she spoke, he thought back to how she had helped him. He would do whatever she asked.

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Sam and Bobby looked up when they heard Dean's footfalls on the stairs. Dean approached Bobby and thanked him with a kiss on the top of his head then ruffled his brother's hair as he proceeded to the kitchen. Both were amazed at the change in Dean.

Sipping his coffee, Dean said, "Bobby, we know you're a genius but, how'd you do it? I slept like a baby." Bobby explained about the dream root and asked if he had a dream. "I did." Even though he remembered, Dean didn't think he could explain. "And there's something I gotta do."

Bobby asked, "Did it come to you in the dream?" Dean nodded as did Bobby.

Sam asked, "So, what is it? It sounds a little like hypnosis to me."

Dean became defensive. " You think some chick waved a watch in my face?" Bobby interjected. "Well, I seen you respond to less."

Sam's guffaw was cut short by the expression on his brother's face and before he could turn and apply the same look to him, Bobby spoke up.

"Look, Dean, I think I know what's going on, here. I did a little research after you boys called and, from what I'm hearing, I think maybe you're hooked up with a restorer who lost her day planner"

Dean took a minute before speaking. " That's kinda what she said, yeah, a restorer But, she 's not here by accident. " Sam asked why they had never heard of this before.

Bobby tried to explain. "I couldn't be sure and it's pretty sketchy 'cause they ain't supposed to exist. It's a myth; something folks made up to explain away things they couldn't figure out."

Dean said, almost to himself, "Like how a four year old can take care of a baby…."

"Yeah, something like that." Bobby went on to explain, some of which Dean already knew, about restorers, their lifelong attachment, and especially what can happen if they show up uninvited. "They have these mental abilities. They fix you when you get real down. Once they do the job, they make you forget about 'em. This is the first I heard of somebody remembering. But, then, it does kinda make sense. If she needs something, she can't approach just anybody. "

"Is that why Dean was so messed up, because she wasn't supposed to come now?"

Both brothers looked to Bobby for an answer; he just shrugged.

"And by the way, you sure know a lot about something we know nothing about."

Bobby took Sam's remark as a compliment and asked Dean if he knew what the restorer wanted him to do.

Dean shook his head. "No, but I'll figure it out, I guess." He wasn't sure about anything except that he felt an urgency to hit the road. " So, let's roll. Just follow me, Bobby and try to keep up."

"That shouldn't be too tough since you don't know where you're going."

It becomes apparent that something extraordinary was indeed happening and the three hunters start the drive, with no clear direction or destination, the Impala in the lead.


	6. Chapter 6

They drove in unbearable silence. Sam wasn't even sure his brother was breathing. He felt he would burst if he didn't speak up. Expecting the worst, he spoke softly. With no answer, or even acknowledgement, his frustration voiced itself.

"DEAN!"

Startled, as if awakened, Dean turned his head quickly then returned his sight to the road.

"Let me drive." Sam urged.

"I'm fine, Sam" Dean refused.

"Really? You're white knuckling, dude. I'll probably have to pry you loose."

Dean wiggled his fingers and rolled his shoulders, his facial expression was telling.

Sam tried again. "Come on, man. Pull over and let me drive."

"I can't. I really don't know where I'm going."

Sam's confused look was his response.

Dean continued. "I mean, I know what road to take and what direction but, not til I get there, you know."

"No, I really don't." Sam took a minute and spoke cautiously, "Dean?" He paused as if waiting for permission "What's it like?"

"The restorer?" Dean likened it to possession as a reference. "Well, remember when you had Meg all up in you?" Dean loved having this opportunity to watch the redness rise up Sam's face as he squirmed in his seat. "It's like that but without the struggle, the pain, the evil deeds and afterwards, you feel better and have a good night's sleep. I guess it's not the same at all. I don't know, Sammy. I don't know how and I don't know why. I just know that she seems to show up when I need it and helps me. My whole life. And no, it's never been rough like this. At least, not that I remember."

Sam started to ask another question but it was scary how he didn't have to, for Dean to give him the answer.

"I only remember that last time. You were gone and I was a mess. It took weeks before I could say your name out loud without..."

Hearing the break in Dean's voice, Sam reached out and placed a gentle hand on his brother, while Dean composed himself. "I am really sorry about all of that."

"Anyway, this time, she wasn't supposed to be here. So, without the secret knock, I wouldn't let her in. Not until we spent the night in Beakman's world." He told his brother all he knew and it felt good.

" Dean, is 'she' telling you what to do now?"

Dean answered reluctantly. "Not telling me exactly but, yeah."

Sam could feel his brother's discomfort. "Do you want to stop talking about it now?"

"Yeah, that would be good."

They went back to their silence and drove on. Bobby bringing up the rear.

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Bobby had years of practice following behind his boys. Dean's driving was a bit erratic today but, he knew Dean was on remote control.

Everything he had ever read or heard about them was positive. They were helpful and comforting and all powerful. Except, they always come to you and it's all predetermined. They don't hurt you so, why screw with him like that? What could Dean possibly do for her? Bobby decided to put his cynicism and doubt back in the box and trust Dean.

Of all the mystical, mythical creatures he had studied, a restorer was absolutely the last he thought would be true. But, if anybody was going to get that kind of help, it would be the angel magnet.

Bobby had to stop letting his mind wander. This trip was taking a bit more concentration than usual.

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As time passes, the roads get narrower and more desolate. After many hours, the cars turn off a dirt road and onto a barely navigational path, hardly wide enough for either vehicle. The surface of which is not agreeable to wheels of any kind. Fortunately, the trip is short. The Impala stops so abruptly, Bobby must react quickly to avoid the collision. Before he gets upset, he reminds himself that forces beyond themselves are in control.

Exiting the vehicles, they walk, not toward a house or habitable structure, but into nothing. As their eyes adjust to the darkness, the spectre appears. It is not frightful or threatening, in any way; in fact, it feels comforting. Sam and Bobby see only the lights but, Dean recognizes his visitor.


	7. Chapter 7

Dean felt the warm envelopment, safe and familiar. The lights dancing in and out of focus.

Sam and Bobby saw the lights, also. It made Sam think of the aurora borealis. It was prism colorful, soft, formless and with a seemingly random pattern of movement. The attention of the two was rapt but, they could see that Dean was more deeply engaged.

The immediate reaction was to rescue. However, it soon became apparent, that Dean was in no danger.

Several minutes passed seemingly without conscious thought from any of them. The lights appeared to flicker and they heard a low hum, like the winding down of a motor. Whatever was holding Dean, released him.

He was physically moved, as if pushed and became slightly off balanced. Instantly, Sam rushed to steady his older brother. He asked Dean if he was okay. Dean didn't answer; instead, he rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose as if fending off a headache.

"You alright, son?" Bobby was truly concerned. All his suspicious thoughts and fears resurfaced. This 'good' thing had a hold on his boy and this wasn't in any of the research.

At this point, Dean's head cleared and he was able to answer. "Did you feel that or was it just me?"

"Just you, Dean." Sam had gripped his brother's shoulders and looked directly into his eyes searching for responsiveness. Satisfied, he asked his brother what happened.

Dean attempted to describe the feeling. It was like sleep but, he was awake and she spoke to him. He paused to collect his thoughts. This time it was different.

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He wasn't here for comfort. He felt anxious and unprepared. However, these were not his emotions, they were coming from her.

Grace apologized. Dean never tired of hearing omnipotent supreme beings ask for his forgiveness. The lightness didn't last too long. She began to press, tamp down on his emotions. He imagined the power she could yield in the wrong hands. Still, he wasn't afraid, not yet.

She apologized again about bringing him to her but, she was breaking all the rules and was unfamiliar with the consequences.

If his own emotions had been available, Dean was more curious than anything else. She wouldn't hurt him, of that he was sure. She had her reasons for this but, he couldn't imagine what he could possibly do to help her.

She had warned him before about forecasting the future. That knowledge was her burden and he was her responsibility. He was also her only hope. Someone had to be told regardless of the repercussions. Something was coming. Something she hadn't seen in centuries and someone had to stop it.

Dean once again felt a strange chill. It filled him like air in a balloon. It was dark and bleak. A thick blackness flowed through his body riding the blood in his veins. It was cold and clawing, pulling at his insides like liquid tar. She sent with it a feeling of dread. She made him feel afraid.

Then suddenly, it was over. She now filled him with warmth and a sense of security. She released him leaving one word behind and she was gone. An apology and gratitude hung in the air.

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Sam asked Dean again if he was alright. Dean patted his little brother's face and smiled as he turned to look at the tired old man.

"I'm good now. It was pretty intense for a while and she scared the crap out of me for a minute."

"Why would she do that?" Bobby was angry and thinking vengeful and destructive thoughts.

"She didn't hurt me, Bobby. She needed to tell me something. And it ain't good." Dean described the feeling. It was a 'body snatcher' kind of thing and after she took it away, he did hear something.

The pause was minimal and excruciating. "What did she say, boy?" Bobby was almost pleading.

"I just got one word." Dean rattled it around in his brain looking for familiarity and finding none, he let it go.

"Leviathan. Does that mean anything to either of you?"

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we all know what happens next


End file.
